


Stay, Stay, Stay

by wincestplease



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, So much angst, pre hell, sam is scared to lose his brother to hell hounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 09:09:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3604491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wincestplease/pseuds/wincestplease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'll give you one more time/ We'll give you one more fight/ Said one more line/ Will I know you/"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay, Stay, Stay

There isn’t long now.

5 days. Which is only 120 hours, which is only 7200 minutes, which is only 432000 seconds, and those numbers would only get smaller and smaller until they all become one, definite zero that would mean Sam would be literally and utterly alone, like he had never been before.

“Sammy? You okay?”

Dean’s voice interrupts his inner panic, and Sam blinks over at his brother in confusion, wondering if he’d said anything out loud or if Dean was just that good at reading him.

It seemed to be the latter—Sam’s eyes were fighting a losing battle with tears, and across the room and in the 12 o’clock darkness of the motel room, Dean had noticed. Sam’s ashamed at being caught in weakness.

 Dean’s on the opposite bed, propped up on his elbows, watching Sam, looking concerned, eyebrows drawn up in worry, mouth pressed into a tight line.

Sam wishes he wouldn’t do that. He wishes Dean wouldn’t be so damn concerned about Sam, and wishes instead, he would worry about _himself,_ would find it within himself to care that he was going to Hell. It seemed that Sam was more worried about it than Dean was.

Sam wants to tell him, _I’m fine, it’s nothing, goodnight,_ but it’s _not_ nothing and he’s crumbling under the weight of Dean’s stare, and before he can stop it, the words flow out of him without filter. “No. _No,_ I’m not okay. I’m not okay because my big brother has all of 5 days left on earth before he goes to hell to burn alive for the rest of eternity because of _me,_ and there is nothing I can do about it, and I’m freaking out because I can’t even do…. _this,”_ Sam makes a vague gesture in the air. “…without you. Hunting. Driving.” Sam sobs once, softly. “ _Living._ I’m too fucking dependent on you and I don’t want to do anything without you and I just don’t want you to leave and I would do anything to keep you with me. Anything.” Sam whispers, curling in on himself, bottom lip trembling. “I wish I could be brave for you, Dean, but I can’t. I’m tired and I’m losing the only thing I’ve always had, and I just can’t do it. I can’t be strong for you.”

Dean’s breathing is a little uneven, but he keeps himself calm just like he always does, as he slowly climbs out of his bed, and without a word, nudges Sam over, and slides into his bed, trapping Sam’s legs with his, wrapping his arms around hi 6’5 kid, and just holding, nevermind that Sam had been taller than him since he hit 18.

He managed to make his little brother feel just like a little kid again, curling up with his brother to seek shelter from the thunderstorms he’d always hated so much.

 Dean held, and held, and Sam held back, shaking, tucking his face under Dean’s chin, even though he was bigger, he still fit there nicely---he was made to go there, made to fit into Dean.

“God, Sam, please, stop crying. You’re killing me, kid.” Dean tries desperately, after a while.

Seeing Sam like this isn’t making anything easier. Hell is going to suck enough, but what about Sam? Who will be here to look out of him if it’s not Dean? Who will make sure he’s eating enough, who will stitch him up after a nasty go with a poltergeist? Who will watch his back? Who’ll protect him with their life?

Dean is all Sam has.

“I’m scared. I’m scared for you. And it’s selfish, but I’m scared for me too.” Sam sniffles, holding on tighter. “Please don’t leave me, Dean. You can’t. You _can’t._ ”

Dean’s throat gets really tight then, because Sam doesn’t admit fear often, and he sounds so utterly terrified right now that Dean hates himself, but he doesn’t ever regret his decision, because if he hadn’t done what he had, than he would be alone, without Sam, and he’s too selfish to want that, even if it meant pulling Sam from heaven back onto this hell with him.

He just couldn’t do anything without his kid, and now he was asking Sam to live without him.

Still, whatever agony hell entails, it’ll all be worth it. He remembers it, clear as day, seeing Sam’s eyes open after he’d been killed, seeing his smile again after he was so sure it’d be lost to him forever.

Never mind the demon took his soul. He was grateful to her. She brought him Sam.

“You’re gonna be okay, Sammy.” Dean rasps, because this is his job, and he only gets to do it for a little while longer. “Hey. Hey,” He nudges Sam, and he stops crying for a second, listening. Dean’s words are precious gifts, now. He doesn’t dare miss a single one of them. Later, after he’s gone, they will be the glue to hold him together. “You’re going to be okay, because you have to be okay—this is for you, Sam, I want you to be happy now.” Dean pauses to take in a shaky breath. “You deserve happiness. Sam…I’m asking you to let this life die with me.”

“So I want you to find someone, a nice girl—okay? Fall in love, be weird around each other, take her on goofy, romantic dates…ask her to marry you. Buy a house. Have a kid, name him after me. Teach him how to break hearts and mend ‘em up all the same. Bet he’ll have your smile.” _someone better pass on that fucking smile, sunshine smiles like Sam’s are so rare someone has to pass it on, god, someone. Can’t let something like that fade._ “Watch those kids grow up. You’re gonna live to have grandkids, Sammy. You’re gonna be old and wrinkly and you’re gonna have to take 40 pills a day just to keep that ticker ticking and you’ll smell like prunes and…and you’ll have a rocking chair and you and that girl you fell in love with are going to rock on them together and you’re going to die peacefully, nice and old, surrounded by everyone who loves you on a white wrap around porch somewhere.” Dean says fiercely. “That’s what I want for you. _That’s_ what you deserve.”

“And so what? I’m supposed to be…. _happy--”_ Sam says it like it’s a dirty word, “—while you just burn in hell? _Forever?_ For me?” Sam whispers. “How is that fair?”

“It is.” Dean answers calmly, gaining composure. “It’s fair, because you’re my baby brother, Sam, and this is my choice and I’m giving this to you, so you can suck it up for me, and accept it, alright? Just suck it up and have that safe, apple pie life I never should have pulled you away from.”

“Don’t.” Sam says sharply. “Don’t apologize. I never regretted going on the road with you, Dean. Not once. We were perfect, we had everything, when we had nothing, okay? We…we started being brothers again.” Sam’s voice breaks on the word _brothers,_ because it’s the root of all that is wrong and all that is right and the title, the _promise,_ of brothers just hurts right now like a 3rd degree burn. “Happiest I’ve ever been is when I’m with you.”

“I’m sorry.” Dean says finally, after a long silence, because really,  he is. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

Sam shuts his eyes, his heart weighing a thousand pounds. His choice was made, he’d get his brother back, demon deal or otherwise. He’d find a way. He had to find a way.

If Dean wanted him to grow old so bad, then _he_ would be the one on the rocking chair beside Sam. There was no one else Sam wanted to grow old with.

“Yeah,” He whispers hoarsely. “I’m sorry too.” 


End file.
